O Madam, My Old Heart Is Cracked,

Well, Every One Can Master A Grief But He That Has It.

Shall We Upon The Footing Of Our Land Send Fair-play Orders, And Make Compromise, Insinuation, Parley, And Base Truce, To Arms Invasive?

I Wish My Horse Had The Speed Of Your Tongue.

I'll Have No Husband, If You Be Not He.

There Is Some Soul Of Goodness In Things Evil, Would Men Observingly Distill It Out.